Writing Music ( A Zayn Malik love story)

Stories That I Can't Explain

I look around my room to make sure that there is nothing I missed. It feels so empty even though I did leave some pictures on the walls. I sit down at my desk and sort through the pile of things I still haven’t decided if I’m bringing with me or not.

    I brush my fingers on top of the wooden jewelry box. It was the first thing I bought for myself when we moved into the house. It is nothing more than a chipped wooden box from a rummage sale but I feel like it is more. I open it and look inside to find miscellaneous earrings that I lost the match to.

    I take Brad’s ring off my finger and put it in the box. I close the box and push it to the pile that is staying. I don’t want to forget about the past I had but I don’t want to carry the weight anymore into my new life either.

    I pack the rest of the stuff that I decided to take and bring the box downstairs, leaving it in the hallway with the others.

I hear music playing lightly from the kitchen. I go into the kitchen to find my mum drinking spirits, I grab a glass and pour a drink for myself and I sit down across from her.

“You better give me your keys so your not driving, the last thing I need is for you to be in the hospital again,” My mum says jokingly. Although her accent has mostly stayed American the whole time we have been here I now hear a bit of British seeping into it.

“I’m only having one drink with my mum. Besides you should be the one behind the wheel.” I say nodding towards her glass that has probably been filled a few times.

    “But if you do want some keys I guess I can give you these,” I say taking my house keys out of my pocket and putting them on the table. “You can put them on the ring with all of the others.” I refer to the ring of keys we have.

    There are more keys on it than a janitor has but each key came from where we have lived. Every time we have moved we put our old key on it sorta like a game to distract me from the constant moving.

    “You keep those keys, I don’t want you to ever be locked out of this house. If you ever decide to come back I want you to know that you are always welcome here.” She says pushing the keys back to me. “Even if you just want a place to crash the door will be open for you.

    I know that it has been difficult for my mum to accept me moving out. Since the divorce she has been afraid that I would leave her and go back to my dad. The only reason I had to do that would be to be with Zach but that would have meant leaving my mum alone.

    “I better get some sleep, there is a lot of work to do in the morning,” I say draining my glass. I put the empty glass in the sink and give my mum a hug. I take the keys and put them back in my pocket.

    I walk up the stairs slowly looking at the pictures there. Even though it has been so long since me and my mum have seen Zachary in person we still have gotten photos of him. For every picture of his there is one of me around the same time. The last one we got was him at his prom, even though it took some time for us to get it. I stop and look at it, standing next to my brother is Paige.

    I can’t help but think if I had stayed with my brother what my life would have been like. Would my mum have separate photos of us or would they just be of the two of us? Would the scenes of him be extended so that I would be in the same frame? Who would I have been with in the prom picture if I had never met Zayn?

    I turn and walk to my room. I grab Zace the stuffed zebra off my desk and curl up with him on my bed. Besides my bracelet Zace is the only thing I have from Zachary that has survived over and years although there are a few patches on it. He bought it on our 8th birthday at the zoo after the incident with the zebra. It is the only thing that I have never packed in a box because I’m afraid of losing it.

    I shut off my bedside light and go to sleep.